


Keep Me Close

by Thysanotus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Friendship, Hogwarts Era, The Quidditch Pitch: From Diagon Alley to Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-29
Updated: 2005-10-29
Packaged: 2018-10-27 07:29:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10804629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thysanotus/pseuds/Thysanotus
Summary: Harry has a habit.





	Keep Me Close

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

A/N: I started writing this ages ago for xylodemon as comment!fic when she said she wanted a Remus/Harry pot!fic. Found the link again this afternoon, bunny bit and I finished it off. So, J. This is half for you, and half your fault.

Remus pushes against the door to Harry's room gently. The boy is spending vast amounts of time quietly lying on his bed. From the living room downstairs, clutching a book between trembling hands, Remus can hear the soft creak of the bedsprings as Harry shifts positions.

To Remus' surprise, the door clicks open, swinging back. Harry is staring blankly at the ceiling in the dim room. The carpet whispers under his bare feet as he stands helplessly at Harry's side.

"You're not the only one who misses him, Harry," he grates out, finally. Harry turns over to face the wall. Sighing, Remus moves towards the door, the line of light coming from under the cupboard door lighting his steps. He stops just before leaving the room. The line of light from under Harry's cupboard door? Since when had there been a light in Harry's cupboard?

Wondering, Remus opens Harry's cupboard door as the boy springs off the bed in a frantic attempt to stop him from seeing the shelves full of fragrant, healthy looking... marijuana plants? He clenches his fingers round the doorknob and bites on his lower lip to suppress the giggles.

Harry has red spots on his cheekbones, and the beginnings of an apologetic look on his face.

Remus raises an eyebrow, and the words spill out of Harry. It seems Neville gave him the seeds and some charmed soil for his birthday. A simple Lumos charm took care of the lighting, and Harry's been enjoying his pot ever since.

"It helps me relax," he says sullenly. "I don't have to remember about Sirius or being the boy hero of the wizarding world or anything."

Tugging Harry back to the bed, Remus allows a smile to ghost across his face.

"Harry, you weren't the first to discover this, you know. I was a teenager in the seventies, after all."

Harry rolls a joint, deftly licking it closed, and Remus has to swallow hard at the sight of that pale pink tongue, flicking over the cigarette paper. He lights the end with a tap of his wand, and Harry inhales, holding the fragrant smoke in his lungs for what seems like an age, passing the joint to Remus with a waft of cloudy smoke.

It's stronger than Remus ever remembers it being, and he chokes surreptitiously, the harsh taste blurring over his teeth and tongue. Harry giggles, and Remus looks over, surprised.

"Think it's funny, do you?" he asks, poking at the sensitive spot in Harry's ribs, and the boy laughs harder, twisting his torso away, grabbing the joint with the other hand.

Harry squirms under him, laughter and fragrant smoke rising to bob around his ears, pasting a gormless grin on his face and tears of laughter down his cheeks.

They lie in a muddled pile of warm bodies, heads pillowed on stomach or arms.

"Remus," Harry says slowly.

"Mmm?" Remus replies, too lazy to actually think of words to frame the pictures in his mind.

"Did you do this with Sirius?"

Remus twitches an eyebrow up in surprise, looking at Harry for the first time since that memorial service in the grey and the rain.

His dark hair is rumpled, like Sirius’ when he got up, Sirius when he refused to run a comb through it. “What’s the point, Moony?” he’d say, catching Remus looking at it. “The girls like it better this way. You like it better this way,” he always finished, pushing Remus back against the wall, dipping his tongue in his mouth.

The bedsprings groan under Remus, now, as he tries to shift from under Harry, but Harry’s head is on his stomach, and Harry ends up sprawled on the floor as Remus nervously dusts himself off.

“What was that for?” comes Harry’s indignant voice from the far side of the bed. Remus peers towards the sound of his voice, worried that Harry is hurt, but can’t see anything, the tattered chenille bedspread in the way.

Slowly, he moves around the bed to see Harry smiling dazedly at the ceiling, reminding him of the way Sirius would watch the stars from the roof of Gryffindor tower, passing a joint back to James, who would pass it on to him. If he concentrates, he can still see the slim line of muscle outlined in Sirius’ arm, blurring into Harry’s as he points at a moulding on the ceiling.

Unconsciously, Remus sinks to the floor at Harry’s head, twining his fingers in the messy hair. It seems the most natural thing to drop his head to Harry’s, enclosing them both in a small world bounded by mingled hair, a world where the air is scented with fragrant smoke and hazy with memories.

Afterwards, he’s never quite sure who moved first, but he knows Harry rolls them over, fixes the impatient roll of his hips by sitting astride him, pins his wrists on the floor over his head. Only then does he lean in, eyelashes tickling Remus’ nose.

Remus hears himself giggle, but the sound is muffled as Harry leans in, lips brushing his own. Tentatively, Harry strokes his tongue overbetween Remus’ lips, and Remus lets him, lies there and allows James’ son to kiss him, to rock his hardening cock against Remus’, pinch at his nipples, moan quietly into his mouth.

Harry sits up, pulling his mouth away from Remus, slips a hand under the waistband of the trousers Remus is wearing. Somewhere in his foggy brain, Remus thinks this is a Bad Idea, but the sliding of his erection against Harry’s silences this, and the sudden movement of Harry flicking a tongue against the head of his cock makes him jerk, losing any and all thoughts about the ethics of fucking the son of the man who took his virginity.

The pot gives him a feeling of drifting through the galaxy, and for a moment he thinks he’s outside their dorm on the roof of Gryffindor Tower, and Sirius is between his legs, tousled hair brushing his inner thighs, using his tongue to write his name along Remus’ shaft.

The sharp brush of teeth leads to the realization that this is not Sirius. Sirius was never so clumsy, accidentally. The unskilled enthusiasm of Harry has developed an awkward rhythm, and Remus twists his fingers in Harry’s hair until the tips of them turn white.

Receiving a particularly sharp suck after this, Remus feels the top of his head fly off, all the stars of the galaxy replacing his brain as Harry gags on the carpeted floor between his spasming legs.

When it’s over, when he feels his shaky legs can support him once more, he sits up, tucking his sticky cock back inside the placket of his trousers.

“No more drugs, Harry,” he says, pausing at the door on the way out, hearing only a grunt of muffled assent behind him.


End file.
